


Agora

by brokenlittleboy



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Agoraphobia, Bookstore AU, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles is used to small towns and finds himself lost in his new home, a bustling city. Here for college, the city doesn't seem to offer anything besides getting him hopelessly lost. That is, before he stumbles upon a tiny bookstore down a narrow road called "Jay's Books" and discovers the books aren't the only great secret-- stunning and kind Jared Padalecki owns the store, and Jensen wants to travel the world with him-- except Jared hasn't stepped outside the front door in five years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agora

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also available in Russian here: http://ficbook.net/readfic/2379671 . Translated by the lovely Allie L. :)
> 
> The beautiful art for this fic was done by the amazing and dedicated Amanda, AKA dancing-adrift on Livejournal. Please view her post here and give her some love for her wonderful pieces <3 http://dancing-adrift.livejournal.com/6553.html

 

Jensen hates this town.

Brought here for school, it’s new and big and  _loud_  and unfamiliar and he’s already lost, trying to find the campus bookstore to buy enough textbooks to break his back and his wallet. He’s probably pretty far off-campus by now, but his chronic grumpiness has resurfaced in astonishing levels and he’s too stubborn to ask for help.

He pops out on some narrow road, tall buildings pressing at each other and draining away the sunlight. It’s oddly quiet here, the dull roar of the rest of the city sounding miles away. Only a few cars are parked on the curb, and Jensen keeps walking down the road out of curiosity. The university clock chimes the half hour somewhere far behind him, deep and sonorous, and he figures he deserves a little bit of sightseeing. He’ll make it in time if he gets his ass in gear after this. He’s sure.

The road ends in a court of sorts, a wide stone-paved rectangle with some old statue in the center and surrounded on all sides by renovated apartment buildings. A couple bikes are tied to poles, but otherwise it’s completely desolate, a welcome juxtaposition to the litter-ridden modern city that his school resides in. He begins to really breathe easy, feeling less pressured, and he begins walking back toward where he hopes a main avenue is when a building on his right catches his eye. It’s so thin, it’s almost comical— squeezed between two buildings is a tiny brick one, only three stories tall. It looks like a house, but only because it sports old violet shutters and a crooked chimney puffing out smoke. A dark wooden facade is built onto the exterior of the first floor, an old forest green sign quietly advertising “Jay’s Books” in a gold cursive script.

Jensen is on the front mat before he realizes it.

On either side of him are glass display windows, showing off cute antiques like tiny portable typewriters and tin toy soldiers. Everything is organized meticulously and in perfect condition, and Jensen is almost angry that so much love is hidden away in a crooked decrepit building that the rest of the city is most likely oblivious to. This place is obviously a treasure, something someone’s cultivated for years, but the FOR LEASE sign in the third floor window gives Jensen a certainty that it isn’t getting the business it deserves.

Another part of his mind is selfish, grateful that this place is his (when did he start thinking of it like that?) and not the whole city’s, not another cliche hotspot that will fade from the public eye in a couple of months.

After all this procrastinating, Jensen finally steps inside, a little brass bell above the door jingling merrily as he passes under the threshold.

The place is homey, to say the least.

Jensen is frozen in place, taking it all in. It smells like vellum and dust and old books, and the building has creaky wood floors and matching wood panelling. Well, the rare parts of the walls that he can see are panelled— a maze of tall bookshelves cover everything from floor to ceiling, narrow little pathways winding from section to section. It’s packed full of books organized by genre, little hand-written placards hanging from ceiling telling him how to navigate. Some might describe it as claustrophobic, but Jensen finds it cozy and safe, a relaxant from hectic city life. He’s certain he’ll come here more in the future.

A record is dropped onto a player and the needle lowered over to his left, and as a man slides quickly away behind rows of books, crackly 50s music comes out of hidden speakers all around him, completing the feel of the place and putting a soft smile on Jensen’s face. He sees the checkout desk far away on his left and heads over just as the man from before slides into place behind the cash register, moppy brown hair hiding his face as he looks down to adjust the nametag on his shirt. Jared.

Jared looks up as Jensen noisily creaks his way forward, leaning his elbows against the wooden countertop. Jared grins shyly, waiting.

“Do you know where I can find Jay? I’d like to pay homage,” Jensen jests. “This place is amazing.”

“You’re looking at him,” Jared admits, almost too quietly to hear. He’s blushing. “It’s a nickname of mine.”

Jensen’s silent for a moment, and Jared ducks his head, tucking a strand of hair behind his ears. He taps a staccato rhythm on the wood in front of him, something that might’ve matched the background music if he were to slow down a little.

“That’s incredible,” Jensen fumbles, feeling bad for making The Jay uncomfortable. He sputters. “I, uh, I mean, this place is incredible. I don’t get why more people don’t know about it,”

“Thank you,” Jared tells him earnestly, looking up again, and Jensen is caught by how perfect his hazel eyes look in the low easy lighting. “I appreciate that. It’s a college town, though, and I don’t sell college books, so I guess there’s not much demand.”

“A damn shame,” Jensen says immediately, putting his hands down flat on the counter. He’s rewarded with another shy smile. No other guy has ever managed to make Jensen so ridiculously awkward, his heart set to fluttering and his words to stumbling. Jared’s watching him again, and he remembers that he’s not here to ogle, that he should probably buy something or get out. He’s also on a bit of a schedule, but that’s the last thought on his mind right now. “But, um. I’m here to find a book. Think you can help?”

“I’d hope so,” Jared jokes, blushing again, and Jensen laughs. Jared perks up, straightening and folding his hands behind his back. “So, what is it you’re looking for?”

Jensen didn’t really plan this far ahead. He still needs textbooks, but obviously not from here. He thinks about his massive pile of to-read books at home and figures, fuck it. He wants to give Jared time and wants to give his shop money. “I’m into sci-fi,” he begins, pondering, “do you have anything with time travel? And no cliches?”

Jared reminds him of a dog shown its favorite treats. He lights up even more, eyes glimmering and mouth curving upward lopsidedly of its own accord. “I know just the thing,” he says, coming out from behind the counter and taking the lead. “We’ve got a whole section on time travel, seeing as this is a fiction store, so you can browse that. I have a few personal favorites, though. Time travel’s my favorite. And I  _hate_  cliches.”

Jared had seemed so shy before, but put in his element, he was bustling with activity, narrating his favorite sci-fi shows to Jensen as they weaved their way to the back of the store. Jensen had to trot to keep up with him— not only were Jared’s legs super long and gangly, but every time he got excited he sped up, causing Jensen to canter after him like a puppy.

Jared never paid attention to the signs, weaving in an indistinguishable pattern until they arrived at the time travel shelves. Without pause, he plucked three novels from the shelves and held each one up in turn, babbling about the pros and cons and ending with a little trivia about the author. He seemed to be an endless encyclopedia about all things fiction and fiction-related, filled to the brim with words and stories just like his bookstore. The more he spoke, the more clearly Jensen knew that Jared loved this store with his entire being. It was his life’s work and his passion. The ramshackle, stuffed interior matched Jared’s personality exactly, the bookstore a perfect embodiment of the storeowner.

Jensen realized he hadn’t been listening. He felt bad, but Jared’s dimples were the most beautiful thing he’d seen, parentheses around his pink, full mouth. During Jared’s reviews they’d come out and hadn’t disappeared, and Jensen was grateful. Jared’s hair slipped from behind his ears and curled around his face, framing it before curling up at the nape of his neck. He had a mole on the side of his nose that twitched with Jared’s frequent smiles.

Jared’s body was a whole other natural wonder. He was tall but slim, his white button-up clinging to him in all the right places and accenting how narrow his waist was. He had on tight, ripped jeans and they made his skinny legs look perfect. He looked like he used to tan, but now he was paler, fitting more to the shadows of the bookstore than the bright sunlight of the rest of the city. His broad hands jerked as he tried to gesticulate and couldn’t, seeing as he was holding a stack of books. Jensen forced his eyes back up to Jared’s and forced himself to actually listen to Jared’s soothing voice.

“…but unlike  _Hitchhiker’s, Pathfinder_  has the crazy space-folding reality-altering backstory that makes a scary amount of sense. It’s part of a series, so if you end up thinking it’s awesome I can give you the second one. I really like Umbo, the protagonist’s friend, but I don’t want to spoil you any further. Basically, the plot is really intricate and the characters are really fleshed-out, even if it doesn’t really have the wise or comedic impact of any of Douglas Adams’ works. What do you think?”

“Well, I’ve already read the other two, so  _Pathfinder_  it is. It sounds really interesting.”

“Oh.” Jared’s blushing again, a deeper rosy color that’s apparent even in the depths of the store. He looks down, fiddling with his nametag again. “Sorry you had to hear all that, then. Didn’t mean to ramble.”

Jared’s voice had gotten softer with each word, and Jensen feels the need to reassure him, to tell him nothing bad had happened. “No, don’t worry!” he laughs. “I loved to listen to your take on the books. Thank you, really.”

Jared beams, actually beams, a toothy smile that knocks the tiny grins from before right out of the park. Jensen is knocked speechless. Jared is beautiful. His passion is beautiful. Jensen looks away before his mouth gets the best of him and finds its way to Jared’s. Jensen has never felt like this before, has never had a person affect him so profoundly and so immediately before. The feeling has him a little jumpy, a little dazed, and he backs up without realizing it.

Jared’s beam gets destroyed and smothered into a frown. “Aren’t you going to get it?” he asks nervously, holding the book out in the newly-made span between their bodies. He waits.

They look at each other, and Jared’s resolve bows a little under the pressure, the book shaking and his arm dipping a little lower.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!” Jensen blurts out, startling Jared. Jensen holds his hands out in a placating manner, slowly taking the book from Jared. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I just, uh, kind of spaced out there.”

Jared nods rigidly and silently leads them back to the register, never missing a step, his fingers nervously twining and untwining as he goes. Jensen feels bad, but he’s feeling a lot of other things that he doesn’t know how to sort through, so he stays quiet, tucking the book under his armpit.  

At the counter, things don’t really improve. Neither break the heavy silence, Jared’s fingers bouncing over the antique cash register’s keys as it dings and chimes. Jensen passes him the money and Jared passes him a handwritten receipt. The scrawl matches the one above the shelves. Jensen tucks the receipt between the pages and looks up at Jared, who quickly looks away.

“Listen,” Jared says, only an octave above a whisper, “I’m sorry about earlier. I get a little intense when it’s about the books, I didn’t mean to weird you out. Have a nice day.”

Jared turns away before Jensen can protest, going through mail and flattening out folded letters and bills.

“That’s not what happened,” Jensen admits, matching his volume to Jared’s. He doesn’t remember hearing the record stop, but the silence is almost oppressive, and even though Jensen barely knows Jared he’s desperate to amend things between them. Jared turns halfway, listening, his profile outlined in gold by a weak beam of sunlight coming in through a window by the front door.

“I’m about to sound like a little kid, but here it goes.” Jensen starts. Jared quirks an eyebrow but stays still, even though Jensen can tell he’s desperate to move, maybe desperate to get away.  “I was only acting so weird because Jared, I really like you. You’re so passionate about this place and about books and I love that, okay? I’m just sort of wigged out because I’ve never had someone be so special to me so fast.”

Jared turns fully toward him, eyes wide but mouth staying closed. He turns away and Jensen sags against the counter. He’s about to leave, defeated, when Jared turns back, another book in his hands. He silently slides it across the counter. “Take this one too,” he says, “I think you’ll like it.”

Jensen looks down at the worn copy of  _Slaughterhouse-Five_  and shakes his head. “This is obviously special to you, Jay. I can’t.”

Jared looks him right in the eye. “Please,” he tells him, “I want you to read it.”

Jensen’s silent, lips pursed, but he pulls out his wallet. He’s reaching in it when Jared shakes his head, forehead crinkled and eyebrows drawn together. “No,” he says stoutly, voice wobbly, “free of charge.”

Jensen’s eyes water. “You need the business, dude.”

Jared shakes his head again, staying stubborn. “No, I need a friend.” he says openly.

Jensen doesn’t know what to say. He takes the book, holding it like a rare artifact and staring down at it. “Thank you,” he replies, looking back up at Jared, who smiles.

Jensen turns and walks to the door, but pauses. When he looks back, Jared’s looking after him. “I almost forgot!” Jensen calls, and Jared cocks his head. “My name’s Jensen. See you tomorrow.”

The last thing Jensen sees before going on his way is Jared’s dorky smile. Jensen ends up in his first class of the semester late and bookless, but he’s happy. He still has time. The city is starting to feel more like a blessing and a curse, and Jensen hopes he finally has something to write back home about.

—

TWO WEEKS LATER

Jensen visits every Monday and Friday, and stays late on Saturdays and Sundays. Jared might protest, but Jensen buys books almost weekly, turning his tiny apartment into more of a home. Jensen tells friends and professors about Jared’s hidden bookstore, and sometimes when he comes in, little groups of people are perusing, Jared hovering over shoulders and occasionally offering reviews. Jensen wouldn’t go as far as to say business is booming, but he feels he’s made a difference, and Jared has told him how grateful he is a thousand times.

That’s one of the things he’s learned about Jared. Jared is completely honest. Jensen’s not saying that Jared offers an honest opinion on everything, but he never shies away from a truth, even if it’s a dark or embarrassing one. He’s not worried about how others perceive him, mostly because there aren’t many around to be perceiving, but Jensen’s grateful for the change.

One of the honest things Jensen learned a few days ago was that Jared has never stepped foot outside Jay’s Books in five years. He leaves the trash outside the front door and orders food from a local supermarket. His mail gets straight to his door by an elderly woman named Marilyn who lives in one of the apartments at the end of the road. She’s Jared’s only regular (besides Jensen), and Jensen can tell she’s sort of a mother figure for Jared.

Jensen isn’t 100% clear on why Jared hasn’t left, but he does know that Jared’s parents both died five years ago. He doesn’t press— he knows Jared needs the space, and if Jared ever is willing to talk about it, Jensen will be willing to listen.

He wants Jared to leave, of course, agoraphobia isn’t healthy, but it isn’t his place to pressure Jared. Besides, Jared seems happy in his bookstore, content. Big crowds and strangers make him nervous and he keeps to himself until you know him, of course. Jared loves to babble on about his favorite authors and their quirks. Jensen listens raptly, sometimes reading up on the authors in secret and quoting at Jared, earning him a surprised laugh and the most gorgeous smile known to man.

Another honest moment led to Jared telling Jensen he’s gay, which Jensen hasn’t acted upon, though he certainly wants to. He wants to get to know Jared better first, wants to be his best friend after Jared’s confession during their first meeting. And, well, in the meantime, he dreams of Jared’s smooth skin underneath him and Jared’s shy eyes meeting his before pulling in for a kiss.

Jensen coughs to bring him back to the present for a moment.

Jared has a particular adoration for Philip K. Dick, a prolific science fiction writer who also was agoraphobic. Jared’s read practically every piece of information ever on the guy and obviously relates to him, eyes going soft when he talks about him. Jared and Jensen had a Philip K. Dick movie night, during which Jared confessed he’s seen  _Blade Runner_  22 times.

An attachment of the store, Jared lives in the floor above in a tiny apartment that looks like it’s straight out of the eighties. They curled together on his little couch and watched movies on his little tv, Jensen trying to concentrate on the plot and not Jared’s warmth up against him.

It’s now Monday again, which usually would make Jensen Mr. Grumpypants, but ever since his Monday bookstore visits, they don’t seem quite so bad. The sky is overcast but no rain has fallen yet, and Jensen wishes he’d brought an umbrella as he dips inside the store. Jared is behind the counter, though he runs right over and envelopes Jensen in a crushing bear hug the moment he spots his friend.

“Hey!” Jared greets him, grinning dorkily and clapping him on the back, “Just in time.”

“Just in time for what?” Jensen asks, curiosity piqued, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it by the door.

Jared squirms out of his arms and laughs. Jared disappears out of sight and Jensen can feel the loss, feel the cold where Jared was just pressed against him. Jared returns seconds later with something hidden behind his broad back. He motions for Jensen to wait where he is and scuttles over the record player, setting something down on it and dropping the needle.

After a few seconds of scratches and clicks, the music bleeds in across the store, and Jensen can’t believe his ears.

“No fucking way,” he sputters, struck into awe as David Bowie’s  _Diamond Dogs_  plays around him, “this is the first release, isn’t it? Where did you find this?”

“I know!” Jared agrees happily, bouncing on his heels. “And I know how much you love Bowie, so I’ve been searching for it ever since you mentioned it. There was a guy just outside of Portland who was willing to haggle.”

Jensen’s speechless.

Jared’s smile falls slightly, dims a little. He crams his hands in his pockets. “Do you like it?” he asks nervously. “I just thought, y’know, make this place a little more homey for you, something a bit personal-”

Jensen cuts off Jared’s nervous habit by pressing his lips against Jared’s, Jared hitting the wall behind them as Bowie sings and the guitars croon. Jared makes a noise under him and his hands find Jensen’s chest, pushing him away roughly so Jensen’s stumbling backward, finding his footing so he doesn’t go crashing to the floor. He’s almost afraid to look at Jared, but he has to, and what he sees is fear. Jared’s eyes are wide and his fingers are curling the end of his shirt into a tight rope of fabric.

“Oh my god,” Jensen gasps out, horrified. “Fuck, Jared, I’m so fucking sorry. I just- I thought you might- it’s just with the record, that means so much to me, I mean jesus… but I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you here.”

Jared nods once and Jensen’s heart fractures multiple times, but he manages to grab his coat and shove his way out the door before the first tear falls.

It’s fitting when rain pounds onto his head and thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s pouring, and Jensen’s soaked in minutes. He yells in frustration, huddling further into his jacket. He rubs at his eyes angrily. He was being so fucking dumb. This isn’t some cheesy happy romance novel. Not only that, but he put Jared on the spot, put him in an awkward position. The storm’s going to make him late for class but he couldn’t give any less of a shit. Jared took up his whole mind, Jared and guilt and worry.

Lost in his thoughts, he barked out in surprise when two hands found his shoulders and spun him around.

“Jared?” he squeaked incredulously, eyebrows raised. “What are you doing outside of the bookstore? Are you alright?”

“I came to get you!” Jared yelled over the crashing rain, his long puppy curls plastered to his face. “I didn’t want you to go and do anything stupid. I’m sorry about what happened back there. I just haven’t been with anyone in a while, but I want to be with you.”

Jensen’s over the moon, but concern fights its way forward. “Are you sure?” he questions, “because really Jared, if you aren’t-”

Jared mimics his move from earlier and silences him with a pressing kiss, curling his arms around Jensen’s back and keeping him there. Jensen laughs in joy against Jared’s lips and feels Jared smile. They go back to kissing, ignoring the cold, Jensen tugging at Jared’s bottom lip and prying Jared’s mouth open, lapping into it with his tongue and enjoying the low moan that pries its way out of Jared’s throat. They lose count of how many deep kisses they share, breaking apart only to breath before kissing again, learning each other and enjoying the soft feel of their lips.

Jensen pulls away first. “I don’t know about you, but I could go with a warm bookshop right now.”

“If it meant kissing you,” Jared gasps, “I’d stay outside forever.”

Jensen smiles at Jared and Jared’s smile is immediate, and Jensen is filled with the concrete feeling that he is exactly where he belongs. Well, getting soaked right outside of where he belongs. Taking Jared’s hand in his and squeezing it, he leads his best friend back inside the store and kisses him in the time travel section, where it all started, as Bowie celebrates them in the background.

Jensen decides this town might not be so awful after all.


End file.
